It is night here in dog desert
The wild west world, among enemies and enemies
it is a valley… a desert where men get lost
From this very place, where the sight splits up, from the
view of the dry road to the cattle skull
The wooden ranches cut by the railroad
I see all the things submerse in its feelings. Things that we
always profane,
Without any tenderness, evading the bonds of the holy rituals
in this lost hour pieces blend and the emptiness fills the
horizon
nothing beyond a petty life
of traps already set
it´s night here in dog desert
not even the Jasmin shadows fall over the ground in this dry
summer, of huge moons
where the wind brings desires
wild west world
good guys, bad guys and bad guys compensate for one another
as equals
from this very place, we see them all under sand storms
to the rifles and shrapnel
of shotguns
It is night here in dog desert
and the day is made of dust, blood and sweat of men
who head to
a land
which will never have an owner,
it will be like the nights
of velvet and flesh
among stone faunas
and the black sky luxuries
nothing will give you ties
where the same face can burn under either the sun or dusk
and nothing else can be done
we are tired of acid
of robot fantasies
we are tired of what does not mean
engagement
here it is night in dog desert
lost hour
stone hour
time to howl to the ashes of the moon.
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